


Because All I Have Left Is...

by GoldenGarter



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 14:26:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4709321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenGarter/pseuds/GoldenGarter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A zealot has cursed Princess Zelda into a monstrous form and seized Hyrule to undo the 'trickery wrought by false goddesses'. With her own soldiers scouring the countryside to wipe the land clear of demons and monsters, Zelda has no choice but to flee her land or be slain. To the west she goes to bid her time until she can find a way to undo the curse. </p><p>A young king of the Gerudo wishes to be the King of Demons. The desert wastes are teeming with monsters he has yet to subjugate and fill the ranks of his army with. There's a pecking order amongst demons and he'll claw his way through piles of ash and bone to get to the top.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Because All I Have Left Is...

**Author's Note:**

> I'm rather fond of the Tetra characterization of Zelda. Then again, that might be because Windwaker was my first Zelda game haha. This whole thing spiraled out of me wanting to draw Zelda as an owl harpy... and having her wrestle with being able to think of solutions without a means of physically accomplishing them. (Having to go to more drastic ends than usually depicted in the games). And finally I just wanted her to interact not only with the Gerudo but give a deeper... 'feel'? to the monsters. 
> 
> The titles are snippets of lyrics from Katzenjammer's "To the Sea" which is a big inspiration for this along with most of the Le Pop album.

The wind wafting up from the desert is dry and gritty, lacking any of the sweet smells of plains grass. It’s easier flying here than out on Hyrule Field though. Plenty of warm updrafts to keep her gliding for miles. A lot less work for her sore arms, or rather, _wings_ now. Less work, less energy spent, less need for food, less time foraging on land. And that means less chances of being spotted.

 

She had expected something of this sort would happen. But it would have been better to simply be a bird and worry only about eating and avoiding being eaten. Being trapped in this half‐form was… well, cruel for the sake of a joke in poor taste. And exceptionally idiotic since it left her wits fully intact to wait and plan.

 

The further into the desert she flew, the fewer clouds there were to mask her path in the sky. It was too hot during the day for the larger beasts and monsters. So she would skim across the sand, counting on her golden plumage to hide her from the patrols. The heat trails wavering in front of her eyes made the barren dunes almost look like rolling fields of wheat.

 

Or the ocean with its waves painted gold by a setting sun.

 

Somtimes, like tonight, she keeps flying afterdusk. The Gerudo outposts’ lanterns glint brightly out of the black landscape. She had a court dress made once, tired of the watered down colors in her closet. It had been somber and smooth in black georgette. Golden embroidery dripped from the waistline. She never had a chance to wear it outside of her quarters since it was inappropriate for a remembrance ball (much less an actual funeral). And the color had never been popular according to the dressmaker. But it was beautiful and it made her feel –and look – dangerous in a way that no one ever considered her.  
  


Right now she would be grateful for a potato‐sack tunic to slip over her bare breasts and torso. As night fell the temperatures dropped most impressively. It wasn’t too bad while she was flying, the muscles in her chest and back working up a sweat. But she felt shamed by it. Knowing she hadn’t chosen to be in this form. She had seen the net, seen the slew of them being thrown at her, and this one just happened to find its mark first.

 

Well… she would certainly have the court snapping to attention with how she looks now! And send any gentle hearts fleeing the moment she talked in the rasping, whistling voice that was hers now. The courtiers with their loose tongues had complained that she nagged them with her counsel. The zealot had overheard them and taken… inspiration from them.

 

“‘She plays the harp… she’s always harping on the importance of this or that… so a harpy she shall be!’ Oh yes, he’s quite the accomplished comedian for a traitorous cur!” She hisses into the night wind.

 

As many complaints she has for her current form, flight and long‐sight are not among them. They make the task of finding the Desert Colossus easier than if she were magicless **and** earthbound. Banking to the west she gives the last guard outpost in the chain a wide berth. Out of sight of the great tower she descends down a column of rising air, slowly spiraling till she’s level with the plateau the Colossus is carved into.

 

The giant female figure stands proudly with arms aloft. The palms holds up the ornate gable that blends into the greater part of a cliff.

 

This would be why she had such a hard time finding it. From her previous Eastern approach you would only have seen the raw cliff disappearing into the dunes. Following the Gerudo outposts had been more dangerous, but a more reliable, way of finding the temple. She had read about the ancient monument in the historical records of the Royal Library. But with her now abundant free time and liberty to roam... why shouldn’t she see all the places that had once existed only in books?

 

Especially since the very stone seemed to be giving way to the shifting sand. The grains fall light water over the roof top, glittering silver in the haze of moonlight. There are plenty of alcoves and dips in the statue where she could rest. But she wants to look inside. Not even bothering with the doors that must be at the feet of the statue she starts to scan for another entrance. A window, a collapse in the stone work.

 

There’s a swell of light on the Colossus’ left side that draws her attention. A fire with a long tongue caught in the breeze.

 

With a mindful eye on the balcony with its great brazier lit, Zelda begins to glide down. It’s difficult flying with the wind from the east cutting across the broadside of the cliff. It keeps trying to push her away to the Colossus’ right side.  She had been aiming for the great stone head where she could alight most easily on the flat ‘hair’.  


She loses height as she fights to land on the Colossus. Holding back her grunts of frustration she flings herself forward, wings pinned to her side. Her chin aches where the surprisingly abrasive stone scrapes it raw and bleeding.

 

She was… not gracefully sprawled across the cleavage of the monument. But she had landed. It was perhaps the most difficult part of her whole situation. And like everything in her life she would have to practice it. Repeatedly. Without breaking anything. Her wings don’t offer much leverage or keep her from sliding off. Raising them the smallest amount has wind rushing under them, ready to push her back off the Colossus.

 

So she keeps them firmly placed against the stone, her chin grinding into the surface while her feet shift for purchase. The balcony is now above her to the right some 50 paces. There’s no shouting or arrows peppering her hide so she’s not spotted yet. Not likely someone _would_ see her but if she was too loud and they leaned over…

 

Pulling her wings in around her like a cloak, Zelda manages to inch her feet under her and stand. She looks over her shoulder, down the long slope of her feathered back and tail. She fans out her tail feathers, sighing at how many are disheveled. It’s not like she has hands to set them back in order… or to fix the mess her hair has become.

 

As far as she can tell it is the same style as it has always been: braids wrapped tightly with ribbon. The enchantment on the ribbon is probably the only reason her hair isn’t a knotted mess in her face. She didn’t have cause to cast any other enchantments upon her person… maybe if she had the zealot’s spell wouldn’t have taken at all. But her hair is slowly coming undone, strands slipping out and the ribbon wearing down. She hadn’t meant for it to last months without care.

 

Turning her head back forward Zelda peers at the balcony before hopping up the slope of the Colossus’ collar. The large talons clink and scrape on the stone but this is the only way of moving she has. It’s embarrassing but at least her breasts are covered by her wings and there’s no one to see her jumping about.

 

She makes it over the curve of the Colossus’ shoulder and onto the flat path that is her bicep. The balcony is cradled in the crook of the monument’s elbow. The forearm of the Colossus shelters it from the strongest of the winds and Zelda opens her wings slowly. She’s not whisked off the carven bicep immediately and so continues her approach. The brazier is sending smoke her way and it reeks of oil. Tearing up, she ducks her head and claws at the stone, pausing then to listen for a guard. When there’s no motion on the balcony she advances. With a jump and three short wing beats she’s up on the bannister of the balcony away from the haze of oil smoke. It’s empty and barren of any sort of fixtures an outpost would have.

 

If the fire isn’t for a guard then why bother?

 

–THWAP–

 

An arrow splinters itself against the far wall on the other side of the fire. Zelda falls to the windward side of the fire even as she’s looking behind her for the archer.

 

There’s the outpost tower. How had they seen her?

 

Hunkering down onto all fours she glares at the fire that must have silhouetted her form and alerted the tower. There’s a horn blowing from behind her and, with a whizzing pop of magic, red light fills the desert sky.

 

She flees into the temple rather than try to fly through the fire bursts peppering the sky. It’s ungainly trying to move on all fours, her wing joints dropping the tiny feathers covering the avian equivalent of her wrist bone. But she can cover more ground like this than hopping. The corridor is only one way and she races through it as fast as she can to get to what the books described as a ‘ruby encrusted atrium’.

 

The first room the corridor bisects isn’t large enough. The second rooms she comes to blends into a great landing of a staircase. The ceiling vaults far above her head to a sky light of thick red glass. There’s voices faintly drifting up from the staircase but even more prominent is the hiss of swords sliding from sheathes. There’s no candles lit in the room, only the murky stream of red‐filtered light from above. She springs into flight, trying not to huff with the effort after a day and night of flying. Her arms are burning as she scours the upper heights of the room for a place to hide. There’s plenty of arched alcoves but they’re filled with statuettes in a myriad of different poses.

 

She can see the lanterns bobbing on the staircase as guards climb the staircase, curved swords drawn.

 

She doesn’t have time to inspect them as she wants to and chooses the central alcove. It has a Gerudo woman striking down some sort of beast with six legs from atop her horse. Plenty of statues to hide among.  There’s a thick ledge for her to land on and then she’s on all fours again crawling over the felled beast.

 

Four guards stay on the landing while the rest charge the narrow corridor Zelda came from. Long minutes pass while Zelda is wedged uncomfortably between the wall and the bulk of where the horse and felled beast blend. It’s a snug fit that has her feathers being pushed opposite of how the normally lay.

 

She is patient though, and used to the discomfort of her boned dresses with their harsh metal accents. Peeking around the rounded belly of the horse she can just barely still see the four guards. They look… normal. Darker in tone but not unlike the Hylians to the east by Death Mountain. Their noses are big, sure, but it balances well with their features and large eyes. They have large foreheads, yes, but it serves as more room for the elaborate jewels they decorate their brow with. The way historians described them you would think they were monsters.

 

She’s disappointed. And guilty that she was looking forward to giantesses that towered far above the normal Hylian. They were just a secretive desert race whose sacred temple she’d broken in to. In order to avoid punishment for sneaking into their sovereign territory. But she wasn’t a princess anymore. The only one who’d be catching a sword point at the end of the day would be her.

 

One of the lanterns of the guards dips down, drawing Zelda’s attention from where she’d been thoughtfully staring in the far wall’s engravings. She squints as the lantern illuminates a fifth Gerudo in the room: a girl.  


  
Who is pointing right at Zelda’s hiding spot.

Chapter 1: End


End file.
